


pothole

by orphan_account



Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe, Coffee Shops, First Kiss, First Meetings, M/M, idk what AU this is but its an AU, it's winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2016-08-18
Packaged: 2018-08-09 12:51:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7802548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>i like the silence, i like the empty streets.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	pothole

**Author's Note:**

> 24 hour coffee shops are a thing, yeah?

People don't usually get coffee at 3 AM. Unless you were Mikey Way, and sleep was a joke.

Mikey haunted the local Tim Horton's like some sort of ghost, held there by bitter espresso and insomnia. And he was alone, always alone (beside the employee, who usually kept to herslef in the back). That's the way he liked things.  
It wasn't until the colder months that he had company.

Mikey noticed him first at 2AM on a Wednesday: he was short, wore a red and black striped hoodie, tight jeans, and fingerless gloves. He ordered four shots of espresso straight, then proceded to settle down at a table near Mikey and write in a beat up notebook.  
That became his routine, as Mikey eyed him across the dining area every single night.

After the first month passed, Mikey got used to it. The man owned a lot of different coloured hoodies, and Mikey liked to try and guess what this night's (morning's?) was going to be. One night, Mikey overheard him telling the barista his name: Pete. Mikey didn't think it suited him.  
Mikey always sat at the same table; Pete didn't. Pete would get up after fifteen minutes and move to a different seat. He never approached Mikey. Mikey was only slightly insulted.

By December, Miky started dressing more weather appropriate. Pete just stayed the same. Pete always stayed relatively the same. On the 21st, Mikey was curled up in his seat, reading a book. He heard shuffling, something tapping his table, and by the time he looked up, Pete was walking away. Sitting on his table was a gift card to Tim Horton's, with a note attached:  
' _one awkward silence and two hopes_ '  
Mikey slid the card in his pocket and watched Pete walk out of the coffee shop.

 

The next night, Pete didn't come in. Mikey felt a little lost. He was still trying to decipher the meaning of the note, but that aside, he wanted to say thank you.   
Pete didn't come back until the 26th, and when he did, he sat across from Mikey without even ordering anything first. "Hey," He said quietly.  
Mikey glanced over. It was his first time really hearing Pete's voice, other than small snippets of overheard conversations with the barista. "Hi," Mikey replied.  
"How was Christmas?" Pete asked, making eye contact.  
Mikey shifted awkwardly in his chair, and it squeaked beneath him. "Uh, it was okay. How was yours?"  
Pete shrugged his shoulders, propping his elbows on the table and resting his chin in his hands. "Are you annoyed?" He prompted in a tone that sounded like he didn't _really_ care. "You always look annoyed."

Mikey frowned. "How often are you looking at me?" He quipped, pushing his glasses up. He wasn't annoyed, not usually. Not even now. It was just his face.  
Pete's mouth twitched like he was holding back a smile. "How often are you here?" He answered, unflinching. When Mikey didn't answer, Pete nodded. "Yeah. Anyway, I'm Pete," He extended a gloved hand.  
Mikey took it in his own, feeling how cold Pete's fingertips were. Mikey's own hands were freezing. "I'm Mikey," He said.  
Pete let go slowly. "Great, with that out of the way, can I ask you something?"  
"You just did." It was an asshole thing to say, but Pete seemed too confident.

Pete snorted, shaking his head. "Why are you here every night? And don't just ask why I am, I'll take your glasses off your face and throw them across the room." He grinned, but it sounded serious.  
Mikey fought back a smile with some effort. "Because I can't sleep." He answered after composing himself.  
Pete leaned forward. "Really? That's it? Why? Insomnia? Bad dreams?" He pried. "That's why I don't sleep. Bad dreams, man."  
Mikey felt his glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose, but he left them. "Yeah?" He tipped his head. "I just don't."  
"Sleeping's giving in." Pete said, and it sounded grave. Mikey shifted, slightly uncomfortable. 

It was quiet for a long time, until Pete finally said, "Wanna go on a walk?"  
"It's cold." Mikey replied, unable to help the skeptical look on his face.  
"We'll keep warm." Pete answered, and it sounded like an innuendo. Mikey gave in.

 

The streets were dead at 2:30 AM, andPete liked to fill the silence. Snow was falling down gently, landing on Mikey's glasses and on Pete's dark eyelashes. Mikey thought it was cute, and then immediately tried to purge those thoughts out of his head.  
Mikey's hands were numb with cold and he was going to shove his hands in his pockets, right as Pete grabbed his right one and squeezed it. Mikey side-eyed him, but didn't fight it, and tucked his left in his coat pocket.  
"You cold, baby boy?" Pete asked rhetorically, glancing up a little to meet Mikey's eyes.  
Blood rushed to Mikey's face, and he was glad he was already flushed from the cold. "I'm okay," He lied. He was actually freezing. Who knew skinny jeans didn't offer protection from freezing weather?

Pete smirked, letting goe of Mikey's hand in favour of sliding his arm around Mikey's waist and tugging him to Pete's side. Mikey went willingly, leaning into the shorter boy. He was warm (not really, but he was warmer than Mikey), so Mikey made no fuss.  
By the time Mikey thought he might literally die from hypothermia, Pete began walking them back to Tim Hortons. He'd been talking the entire time, throwing pet names at Mikey like they were normal. ' _Baby boy_ ' made his heart flutter in particular. He felt like a twelve year old with a crush.

When they reached the shop, Mikey was shaking a little, and yet didn't regret the walk. They went inside together, Pete's hand on the small of Mikey's back, and sat at his normal table. Mikey supposed it'd soon become _their_ normal table.  
Pete reclaimed his chair across from Mikey, taking Mikey's hands in his own and rubbing his thumbs across the backs. Mikey's hands were pretty, Pete thought absently.   
Mikey's face felt like it as on fire, and he couldn't tell if it was from the shock of heating or because Pete was, well, Pete. He decided it was both. 

When Mikey finally regained feeling in his hands and feet, he stood up. "I should go home." He stated, watching Pete stand too, squeezing Mikey's hands.  
"Yeah?" Pete asked, raising an eyebrow.  
Mikey nodded. "But I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?" He asked, hoped.  
Pete smiled, eyes lighting up. "Of course." He replied excitedly, letting go of Mikey's hands. They didn't go long without contact before Pete's hands gripped Mikey's waist, tugging him closer.   
Mikey gasped softly against his will, pressing his hands to Pete's chest. "Pete-?"  
"Can I kiss you? I want to kiss you." He questioned, brown eyes boring into Mikey's. Mikey nodded slightly, feeling out of his depth, and Pete pressed his lips to Mikey's in a rush. Mikey tasted like cigarettes and coffee, and Pete decided he could get used to it.


End file.
